Child of the Cache
by BoughtOnEbay
Summary: Khan and Spock's battle atop the battered red fire tanker ended with Khan once again ensconced in his cryo tube. But OC Mara Crane, pilot of the tanker, tracks him down. She has her own crusade against Section 31, and Khan seems just the man to help her, if he doesn't kill her first. Gold star on the forehead for first to find Ch. 1 Easter egg. Violence, strong innuendo.
1. Chapter 1

Mara heard it before she could see it. A low, horrifically threatening roar caused the slim woman and everyone around her on the pier to turn toward the Bay, where an impossible sight bore majestically down on them: the most enormous starship any of them had ever seen, trailing black smoke. Its saucer section dipped into the Bay and began plowing up the water, with no loss of speed.

The crowd stood mute, transfixed. The people fell silent, unable to process what they were seeing. Even the animals – the dogs, the seagulls, the pigeons- froze, unable to comprehend the danger. At first, no children cried out, although one boy of about seven turned his head to zero in on Mara, the only one in motion.

Moments before it occurred to the others to flee, Mara had already sprinted to the nearby fire tanker, idling at the nearby scene of a pleasure boat recently damaged by fire. Leaping onto the tanker's flight deck, she dove for the controls and had it ten meters up before the first screams shattered the air.

Quickly, she swiveled the vehicle so that its reinforced back panels faced the rapidly approaching starship, and dipped its nose slightly. Grimly, she triggered the automatic safety harnesses and gripped the yoke – just as the shock wave hit.

A mass of churning air and water had built up ahead of the doomed vessel, displaced by its onrushing bulk. It ruthlessly slammed into the pier area and swept it clean of people, vehicles, and the small boats tied up along it, hurling them toward the buildings ahead. Mara's tanker lifted in the maelstrom and rode its swell, but precariously. Its dull red paint covered a robust shell that was taking damage from a pelting rain of debris. But of more concern was keeping the craft upright and ahead of the starship; its engines were already whining at maximum.

Buffeted by the turbulence and fighting the old-fashioned manual controls, Mara looked ahead and evaluated her prospects for survival over the next minute. Coming up fast were the landmark skyscrapers of San Francisco, their peaks towering far above her, while the saucer section dipping beneath her began to tear up the lesser buildings at their feet. It would be a near thing. Mara took one long, deep breath and committed herself to the attempt.

Dodging buildings and airborne vehicles with urgent, yet precise jerks of the controls, Mara slowly and deliberately let her breath out as she had been trained, warping and regulating her perception into speedtime. As she now experienced it, reality had slowed by perhaps twenty percent. Now she had subjective time – just enough of it – to choose the optimal path above, below, and through the hazards while still staying ahead of the disintegrating saucer section. For long seconds, it neither gained on her, nor would relinquish its claim on her. But finally, rocketing through the canyons of the city, Mara managed to gain some altitude as the starship dug deeply under the Starfleet Command headquarters building and buried itself in its rubble, at last coming to a ponderous halt well inland.

Mara felt a warm wetness on her wrist, and she glanced down. A piece of shrapnel, its ragged edges still hot, had smashed through a window and embedded itself in her upper arm, and blood was streaming from the wound. Steadying the yoke with her knee and grasping the shard with her other hand, she drew it loose in one pull. As it scraped across bone, she couldn't help crying out, but she continued to remove it, turning it as she did so to avoid the major blood vessels. Then, grimacing, she tossed it aside and quickly wrapped her arm in a compression bandage from the kit next to the seat.

Mara then took two quick breaths in succession, cueing her mind to return to its nominal state so that she could hear normally again. Already it had been a risk to shut out the engine sounds of the other airborne vehicles careening around in the sky with her, piloting only by sight, but it had been necessary. Blinking, she shook her wavy dark brown hair back from her face and refocused her consciousness. Impatiently wiping the blood from her uninjured arm and hand, she took the controls again with them and returned her attention to the starship. Circling, she looked down through the side viewport and surveyed the catastrophe below.

The entire northern end of San Francisco had been obliterated. Along the long scar of the starship's path carved into the Earth there was only bare rock, already being washed over by water from the Bay. Dark smoke rose from the torn carcass, while pieces of it continued to break loose and fall burning to the ground far below. Gazing down at it, Mara was forced to revise her understanding of the physical limits of known materials as used in starship design. This monster was vaguely Federation in style, but nearly incomprehensible in scale.

No one, she knew, could have survived that impact. The damage to the once-mighty ship was too pervasive, and now toxic fluids and radioactive gasses joined the roiling smoke spewing forth from her innards onto the reeling city.

And yet – something moved, there in the edge of the disc - something quick and lithe and - _humanoid_. A robot, perhaps? It seemed too substantial, too constrained by the wreckage as it maneuvered through the twisted beams, to be a rescue reconnaissance projection. Dispassionately curious, Mara dipped the fire tanker's nose and headed in for a closer look at this unlikely survivor.

When she got close enough, she triggered the 'scope and set its crosshairs on what was now clearly a living being clambering among dangling, sparking cables. She hit the zoom function, and the image of the person's face and torso leapt to the screen and tracked with his motion. Moments later, his name appeared, printed neatly along the bottom of the screen.

Astonished, she might have questioned the computer's identification for any number of reasons, except that she was now witnessing the actions of the man himself, making his extremely improbable way to a narrow ledge near the former starship's bridge. Suddenly he dropped from it, apparently purposefully, breaking his fall slightly by sliding his lean, dark-clad body against the hull, but then landing gracefully and recovering himself on another perch _thirty meters lower_.

Jumping and clinging, the man continued making his way down the wreckage, hundreds of meters down toward the street, but suddenly Mara's craft was slammed by an explosion from one of the collapsing nacelles. The tanker was flipped away like an insect, and it was all Mara could do to recover from the spin before she could careen into what was left of the starship's starboard engine. When she was once again in control, the man was gone.

Gliding slowly downward while scanning the dark hull, Mara tried to locate him. He seemed to have disappeared, but there were plenty of possibilities for what had likely become of him, nearly all of them lethal. Fire, arcing electricity, falling debris, radiant heat from reentry, and the dizzying height from which he was attempting to descend together made it extremely improbable that the man she sought still lived.

Discouraged, Mara dropped in altitude and began to look for a suitable place to land the tanker, but then she spotted him. It _must_ have been him, although he seemed to have donned a long coat since she had seen him last. He had the same urgent sense to his movements, but also a certain unusual grace. He was running, already far ahead of where she might have expected him to be, pushing through the dazed crowd. And then, unbelievably, he ran off of the edge of a precipice into empty air.

Mara swung close, expecting to see his form plummeting to the ground, but instead saw another tanker like her own rising from it, with him standing atop its roof.

A flash of blue caught her eye. It was another man, running hard as had the first, and now leaping across space after him. He was aiming toward the other tanker as it drew away, but the span seemed too far. Indeed, the man in the blue tunic disappeared at first, into the shadows under the other craft. But then Mara, steering to follow, saw him clamber up from handholds underneath, grimly pursuing the starship survivor. When he gained the roof of the other tanker, the two men engaged in a vicious battle.

Mara held her course, watching the fight with interest. The pair seemed nearly equally matched, and both were clearly enraged. At first one appeared to gain an advantage, and then the other, but then the starship man broke away and strode to the aft end of their tanker. He stood there a moment, breathing hard, and looked directly back at Mara, holding her gaze while poised over the empty space to the ground.

There was no time for deliberation. Cutting the tanker's hover power briefly, she dropped to a level four meters below his as he turned his head to take a last look at his assailant. Then she shoved the throttles forward, darting under the other vehicle just as he stepped confidently from it. She smiled in satisfaction as she heard the solid, metallic clang on the roof as his boots struck it, and then smaller sounds as she heard him walking above her, heading for the access hatch that would lead down to her compartment. Although she was still forced to swerve to avoid collisions with other vehicles haphazardly piloted by distracted people, his steps were nonetheless steady and purposeful.

And then another, unexpected sound rang out – of the _second_ man landing heavily on the roof as well, having also dropped from above. As her craft's attitude thrusters compensated for this second impact, Mara understood that whoever this determined second man was, he was no friend of Khan Noonien Singh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Got you._ Sitting back, Mara examined the frozen surveillance holo image hanging in the air before her. It depicted a running man, caught in midstride. This image was somewhat clearer than the ones she'd already seen of him battling Khan, and it was definitely the same man.

_Vulcan_, she noted. _And wearing a Starfleet science officer's uniform._ After a short conversation with the computer, she had the man's name and his assigned ship.

Within a week, the engineering roster of the _U.S.S._ _Enterprise_, entering space dock for repairs, added several new technicians to replace casualties incurred on her last voyage. Several days later, the chief engineer assigned one of these new crewmembers to oversee the removal of the ultra-classified cargo from the _Enterprise_, to get it safely stored in a secure Starfleet medical facility, and to maintain it Earthside until decisions about its fate could be made. He thought himself lucky to have had someone already available with the requisite but unusual skill codes and security clearances in her personnel file. Once he had briefed her on her tasks and seen that she was competent to undertake them, he turned his attention to more pressing matters concerning the warp core.

* * *

"Surely you do not intend to revive me, only to kill me."

He spoke before he opened his eyes, in a low baritone voice. He articulated every consonant, and used the accent she knew to expect. Still, she suppressed her attraction for the mere sound of his speech – she knew from her research that it was an advantage he had exploited against others in the past. It resonated in the dim, cavernous chamber, which was empty and nearly featureless but for the opened cryo tube and standard service facilities at the far end. Frost still rimed his eyelashes and dusted his cheeks; she hadn't expected him to regain consciousness for several minutes yet.

"No. I've already rescued you once, and don't plan to waste the effort," she replied calmly. _How does he know I'm armed?_ Mara wondered.

"Ah, the fire tanker pilot. Or at least you were one that day," Khan said, now suddenly regarding her with a sharp, steady gaze from startlingly blue eyes. He had turned his head and was watching her through the transparent side panel of the tube. He answered her unspoken question. "You are apparently unfamiliar with that weapon, or you would know that it emits a characteristic odor of ionized air when energized."

Although she returned his evaluating look with equanimity, out of the corner of her eye she noted that the cryogenic unit's life signs display was already nearly back at 100%, and that he was subtly shifting to rise bodily from it. No matter. Her grip on the phaser had been steady before she'd started the revival sequence.

"_Everyone_ is unfamiliar with this weapon. This is the only prototype, and I stole it from a classified lab. But _you_ know about it, because…?"

"Because I designed it," he replied shortly, abruptly rising and stepping from the unit in one smooth motion. Well out of reach across the large room, Mara reset her grip on the phaser, but Khan merely executed a series of simple but effective stretching and circulation exercises before facing her.

"You know who I am, of course." He lifted his chin slightly in her direction. "Who are _you_?"

Mara's pulse jumped anxiously at his every decisive movement, but her aim did not waver. "Mara Crane," she said.

Khan sighed as if disappointed. "Unimportant, although I suppose a relevant detail." He then spoke rapidly, rebuking her. "You're human, but your breathing rate shows that your lungs' oxygen-carrying capacity is twice normal. The manner in which you operated the manual controls of the tanker proves that your physical strength and reflex abilities far exceed that of an average human woman. In my original time, I and those like me knew _exactly_ how to answer that question."

"It was essential that you know, because planning generations in advance to avoid inbreeding and to develop desired traits was of primary importance," Mara replied coldly. "Fine, then. Briefly, in our closest relationship, we are third cousins."

"No splicing? Not an Augment, then. Could you … yes, you _must_ be of the Cache," Khan said thoughtfully, after a moment. "Eggs and sperm, collected at my order from all known descendants of the Chrysalis Project in the 1990s and stored in secret. What a desperate, hasty effort that was- a flimsy hedge against the clearly impending disaster, and yet here you are, some living measure of its having achieved its purpose." He smiled disarmingly. "So, Mara, tell me. How does a child of the Cache come to be alive and apparently free in 2260, having escaped my notice until now?"

_He's always two steps ahead,_ _even of me,_ Mara reminded herself as he named the current year. She recalled his quick glance at the date readout on the tube's panel as he'd stepped from it, already fully alert. It must have shown him that while, for him, his wild ride on top of the fire tanker had been mere minutes in the past, for her it had been months.

"This phaser was meant to discourage you from taking immediate lethal action when you woke," Mara commented. "However, I believe that we have reached a point in our conversation where, for the moment, you are more interested in information." Khan allowed a small, humorless smile to appear on his lips.

"The next piece of information you need, then, is that the phaser and each of us have been embedded with identification chips, readable by sensors from outside this room. The phaser must stay in contact with me, or else it self-destructs. If you approach within five meters of the phaser, me, or the door, you will be rendered instantly unconscious." Mara regarded him seriously. "I calibrated the system using myself as the subject, so I can tell you that regaining consciousness afterward is also quite painful. I have the power to disarm it and release you, but I must do so manually from another room well away from this one. Unless and until I choose to do so, you will remain here. Meanwhile, consider that I decide who, if anyone, learns of this location and your condition. Finally, each time I come, I must depart this room within a certain, different timeframe, or an automatic message will be sent to your friends at Section 31."

Khan nodded his understanding. "How very… _thorough_ of you," he remarked. Mara thought she also sensed a certain amused approval, and she lowered and holstered the weapon.

Mara continued. "Now, as to who I am aside from my pedigree. What do you know of Section 31's Project Athena?"

"Nothing," Khan answered. "Given who we are, if you were in another Section 31 project I am not surprised that Admiral Marcus took care to separate us."

"Project Athena's purpose was to demonstrate the concept of using genetically superior humans in very specific, small-scale, high-impact roles in warfare. I was deliberately conceived and raised for this. However, the three scientists in charge of my training had misgivings about my proposed future. As I grew older, they quietly exposed me to additional material and taught me unauthorized skills, so that I would be in a position to make my own choice as I came of age. This I have done, taking a new identity and charting my own course." She fell silent.

"You omit that the scientists you left behind suffered terribly for their actions, and that you intend to exact your revenge for their brutal murders," Khan said mildly.

"Revenge is an area in which you have expertise and some recent success, I understand," she replied dryly. Mara made a mental note to control her face and tone even more closely around Khan in the future, if she meant to keep him from inferring her thoughts merely by looking at her. Now, however, she allowed him to see in her face a reflection of the pain that underpinned her existence ever since she had discovered the bodies of her three foster parents. She had loved them all.

"You seek my assistance, then, as a fellow Chryst." Khan stated flatly.

"The standard term is now 'Chrysaline'," Mara corrected him. She shook her head. "You have already assisted, by killing Marcus, and with your attack on the meeting at Daystrom. Two of the directors of the project were in attendance and were mortally wounded. Only my parents' murderer remains at large. I have no doubt that my chances of success against him would increase dramatically if you were directly involved. However, I must accomplish this task with my own hand. I want your counsel only."

"And what can you offer me in return?" Khan said, impatiently. His expression darkened, and his voice became angry. "The torpedoes containing my people were detonated aboard the _Vengeance_, with the results you witnessed. Nor can you justify giving me my absolute freedom. You must know what I have done, and something of what I am likely to do if I have it. I care for nothing else." Khan still stood easily, but Mara saw his graceful, capable hands slowly clench into fists.

"Agreed. And yet, I wouldn't have awakened you without something in mind," Mara replied evenly.

Khan narrowed his eyes, thinking for a moment. Then a light of understanding, and of interest, appeared behind the cobalt irises, and his hands relaxed as he considered her words. "Ah. A unique proposal. One that perhaps only you could offer."

Mara said grimly, "My research indicates that indeed only I can. When the civilian government discovered the military project soon after my birth, the scientists argued successfully for my life and the program was allowed to continue, but they were made to witness the destruction of the Cache." Mara watched a flicker of emotion cross Khan's face, but it was quickly stilled. She went on. "Until recently, I thought that after my departure from the project, my genetic makeup could be of no great value to anyone but myself, and that its strengths could only be diluted should I choose to share it."

"You surmise correctly that it could be of immense value to _me_," Khan said, strongly. "Once I have helped you to achieve your near-term purpose, perhaps I can convince you to agree that restoring a future for the Chrysalines is a worthy goal in itself."

"Someday a man will desire me for more than my body," Mara said wryly, turning to the door. As it slid back with a faint hiss of pneumatics, she glanced back over her shoulder and locked eyes for a moment with her captive. Khan's intent, predatory expression remained in her mind's eye for a long time afterward.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"This is preposterous," Khan exclaimed, indicating the portable console screen as Mara entered. He slammed his hand against the cover, closing it against the image. The console rocked precariously on top of the torpedo shell he was using as a makeshift table. "It was an utter waste, both of your time to prepare it, and of mine to review it."

Mara gritted her teeth, her olive skin flushing slightly. Arguing with the man had already shown its potential for consuming all of their limited time together. "In what way, exactly?" she asked, striving for a neutral tone.

"First piece of advice in seeking revenge," Khan snarled, "The possibility of what you so delicately term 'collateral damage' is a _certainty_, not something to be 'avoided at all costs'. The whole _point_ of revenge is to return the harm a hundredfold, not in dainty, precise, equal measure. It is the nature of revenge to be _devastating_ to all associated with the target, or foolish enough to be nearby, when you choose to strike."

"The concept of revenge exceeds the definition of civilized justice already," Mara grated, "And I will not take more innocent lives in avenging those already lost. I know the pain of those the dead leave behind."

Khan glared at her, his chest slowly rising with a breath he was taking to control himself. "I thought you said you had been trained to be a warrior," he growled, contempt in his voice. "But it appears that I cannot assist you after all. You are too weak."

He stood abruptly, and took several menacing steps toward her, lean muscles flexing under the dark Starfleet command uniform he still wore. Momentarily forgetting her protective system, Mara hastily backed away, regretting that she had returned the phaser prototype to its lab before it could be missed.

But Khan stopped, his lip curling. "Your cowardliness disgusts me," he said. "You should already know that out of respect for those whose blood runs in your veins, I would never hurt you. But I say 'boo' and you flinch."

"How easily you give up when the challenge is something more than mere brute force," Mara sneered in return, her brown eyes flashing. She stepped forward again, forcing Khan to retreat to maintain their five meters' separation. "There is already plenty of that sort of material for me to consult if that were what I wanted. Climb back into your tube, Khan, and I'll return you to the archive. It appears there are no new ideas to be learned from you after all."

"Do not think that this coffin for the living, or death itself for that matter, is such a threat to me," Khan said in a low voice. "I should have died many times over already and have precious little keeping me here now—even less, it seems, than I thought. An eternity of sleep begins to seem preferable to watching my last remaining descendant shrink from her last duty to her family." With a dismissive gesture, he half-turned away from her to place his hands on the torpedo shell. He leaned heavily on them, his head hanging in frustration.

"My foster parents would be horrified to know what I propose to do in their names," Mara retorted, unmoved. "Their imagined disappointment hurts me far more than your ridiculous attempt to make me feel like some wayward child of yours. We share several common ancestors, but in no line am I descended from you. I am _not_ one of your people, and I have no loyalty to you whatsoever. You're not even my elder- in subjective time, I am actually now several weeks older than you."

Khan continued to stare down at his hands, ignoring her, and she crossed her arms in irritation. "To my face, you say that I disgust you. But I've been reviewing recordings of our meetings, and have seen how you look at me when you think I won't see." Khan looked up, startled, and Mara continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "It's clear that you don't want me as some sort of warrior daughter to be proud of. And, actually, I also believe that you do not think of me only in the context of physical release, although that's certainly clearly on display. What you really want, what you hope to gain in me, is a _mate_ – one that you can train to be as free from compunction and as bloodthirsty as you." Khan was silent, but his eyes narrowed.

Mara spoke sharply. "That's not what is on offer, Khan. Being in possession of high-quality, properly prepared samples of my cells is not the same thing as having _me_."

"I know," he said, sighing. "I did not misunderstand our agreement." He straightened, but did not yet meet her eyes again.

"Just remember what it is that I need, and do not need, from _you_," Mara said coldly. "I already have the power to cause great harm, but aside from avenging my parents' murder I do not intend for that to be my legacy."

Passing a hand over his eyes, he said wearily, "You look at me and see a man with a name synonymous with ruthless slaughter… you wish to remind me that there was a time, long ago now for you, when we Chrysts – Chrysalines- were dedicated to use our talents to serve mankind, not to attack it."

Khan dropped his hand, and his voice became hard. "It was so, at the beginning, and even as our first efforts were met with jealous hatred, we tried to lead mankind to the greatness of which we thought it capable. But I tell you that our constant experience instead has been only repeated attempts to destroy us, varied only with plots to use us to destroy others. Each period of contact with outsiders resulted in dreadful losses to our numbers. Finally we were forced to use all of our resources only to defend ourselves. Even then, we honored the rules of war."

"Your account of the Eugenics Wars differs somewhat from those in the history books," Mara remarked skeptically, but she felt a glimmer of compassion flicker in her heart.

"Books that were written by the victors," Khan reminded her. "Only I am left to tell the story from our side, but there never have been any who cared to listen. Mara… I have never had a mate, a wife, at all, much less one such as you describe. We were too busy fighting for our lives to actually live them. There were several Chrysaline women with whom I might have successfully paired, both genetically and personally. Had any one of them been as without scruples and as barbaric as you suggest, she might still be alive. But all have now been killed, as have my Chrysaline brothers. I have lost, or been denied, _everything_ to which I had a right. Do not wonder at my readiness to inflict ruin on my – and I should say _our_—enemies."

"That is not what surprises me. It is what else you inadvertently revealed on those recordings that was unexpected," Mara commented. "I marvel that, somehow, you believe that you are still capable of a close personal connection with another …. perhaps even of love."

Neither spoke for a moment. Finally Khan said, "Perhaps I am not. For me, to be with others is to witness, and to experience, and to cause, great pain. But, watching you, I see that _you_ are completely capable of it. I envy you."

Khan gazed at her for a few seconds, and then turned again to the console. "I will consider this again from your perspective, and I will more heavily weigh your intent to honor your foster parents." He said nothing more.

Mara hesitated, uncertain words on her lips, but then turned and left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"I could give you much more specific direction if I knew which of Marcus's Section 31 operatives I am advising you on killing," Khan grumbled. "I believe that in the course of my work for him I met almost all of them."

"Thank you, no," Mara said firmly. "It is sufficient that I alone know the _who_. I need assistance only with the _how."_

"You know that I _have_ met him, then, I can see it in your face." Khan sighed as Mara kept silent. "Fine. You do see that it _must_ be with a knife, though," he insisted.

"I do intend to make him suffer as my parents suffered, so we have agreed before," Mara mused. "But whatever I use, I can hardly kill the man three times over."

Khan looked at her impatiently, a master annoyed with a slow student. "No, but you can make him _feel_ three deaths. Have you never killed with a knife before?" Mara looked away, and did not reply. Khan's voice dropped dangerously. "Mara. Have you ever personally killed _anyone_, in _any_ way, before?"

"Yes, of course," Mara said expressionlessly. "As part of my training, it was deemed essential that I have such experience."

"Go on," Khan prompted, when she paused.

"Section 31 provided our program with condemned criminals," she said. "The death penalty is rarely given to Federation citizens, and when it is, it is conducted after a lengthy legal process, the execution is publicly conducted, and the method is always transporter dematerialization. But an obscure line in the legal code creates the little-known fact that for non-citizen beings convicted of capital crimes in Federation space, the rules differ. Starting when I was twelve, I was taught how to carry it out on them." She paused, remembering. "My foster parents were distressed by this, and objected strenuously to it, but in the end all they could do was to ensure that I knew how to cause violent death instantly – where to shoot, to twist, to cut, to break, for each species I might encounter. Among other things, they made sure I had a firm hand and needed no second strike when the method ordered against a human was a knife thrust to a the heart or a slash to the throat."

"And the problem?" Khan said, when Mara paused. "There _is_ a problem, obviously."

"The _problem_, Khan, was that one evening last year I overheard my parents having a hushed, horrified discussion. It seems that the woman whose throat I had cut that afternoon had been discovered to be innocent, but that, even knowing this, Section 31 had sent her to us anyway. And, of course, the true criminal, whoever it was, remained unpunished. The discussion was about whether to tell me the truth, or to allow me to continue to believe that it was a moral act to commit violence unquestioningly against any target named by my superiors."

"And what did they decide?" Khan asked curiously.

"They wanted to tell me, but were cowed by threats from the program directors, who had warned them not to say anything. So they rationalized that it would be a kindness to withhold the woman's innocence, the agonized grief of her family, and my superiors' atrocity from me. But it was too late; I now knew. The knowledge began to affect the confidence with which I carried out my later executions. For one thing, I was unable to use a knife again – that woman's face blinds me every time I pick one up. Our military masters noticed my unease, and they inferred its source." Mara's voice became stony as she finished. "I am sure that it was as a message to me that Marcus sent the murderer to kill my foster parents with a knife, and not at all quickly."

Khan stood and paced his end of the room, thinking aloud. "Every death that I have direct responsibility for, I have caused for my own reasons, and not at others' bidding," he reflected. "I hold myself accountable for whether those reasons are justified, although others often assert that I do not legitimately wield that power. As for indirect responsibility, the weapons I designed for Admiral Marcus will likely kill many people. But to me, the seventy-two lives of my family that I strove to save by working for him would have outweighed any number of others. You, though—" he glanced at Mara—"_you_ have killed for nothing more than blind obedience to an unworthy authority."

"I cannot have been expected to know better at first, and I began to change when I realized what I was becoming," Mara said defensively, but then her gaze dropped to the floor. "I do not know what I would have chosen had I known what the cost of that would be."

"But now you do have an excellent reason of your own to use your skills- to mete out a harsh justice against the murderer of your family that matches well the harm he has done. And yet, you hesitate!" Khan said angrily. "The number of days that your target continues to live while your parents lie dead is already high. Why have you awakened me at all? I will have to rot in this room indefinitely, it seems, while you wrestle with your personal demons over these niceties. If what I suggest sickens you, my answer is that revenge is not what you seek after all, and that I am not the one to help you. Ask the gallant Captain Kirk of the _Enterprise_ instead." Sarcasm and disdain filled his voice. "I have it on good authority that if your parents' murderer truly threatens Federation interests, Kirk can be counted upon to very firmly slap cuffs on him, and march him off to the brig for you. If you can get charges to apply, there will eventually be a trial with an uncertain outcome, but perhaps you will obtain your lukewarm satisfaction when a sentence of a few years of humanely managed prison time is handed down."

Khan watched Mara take in his tirade, and his scowl deepened as her face clouded. He pressed his point. "I am serious about contacting Kirk, Mara. He must be languishing in boredom while his ship is repaired, and would likely jump at a chance to help a damsel in distress, just for something to do. Call on him to collect your target, and meanwhile, for God's sake, return me to my oblivion." He turned away.

Mara regarded Khan's back. "I can't," she replied steadily. "Kirk _is _my target."


	5. Chapter 5

Khan stood motionless, his face hidden from Mara. While she waited for his response, she watched the backs of his powerful shoulders. She had expected them to jerk slightly as she named their common enemy, or at least to rise and fall with his breathing. One hand rested lightly on the torpedo shell, and as usual Khan appeared poised for any physical challenge. But his body betrayed nothing as he assessed the implications of what she had said.

"You thought to withhold Kirk's name from me, all the while soliciting my advice about how to kill him." Khan's voice, when it came, was quiet. Her sharpened senses focused on her prisoner, Mara was alert for any clue as to his state of mind or warning of his next actions. "You did this, when you must know that I have a far more significant claim on him, and on those close to him, than you." On its surface, Khan's tone was one of mild disappointment, but Mara clearly heard the lethal undercurrent, and her blood ran cold.

Coming quickly to a decision, Mara spoke to the air. "Computer. Code bravo three fifteen," she said. Abruptly the entire glossy black surface of the side wall of the room became transparent, revealing an identical adjacent chamber. Mara then stepped back, so that Khan could move forward for an unobstructed view of what it contained.

Khan's restrained power remained quiescent as he did so, gazing in shock at the silvery grey canisters, their life signs panels glowing a pale green. His graceful frame rocked with several shuddering breaths. He appeared to not hear as she added, "I will arrange for you to examine them, if you need confirmation that they are indeed your people, but they must remain in stasis for now."

Khan, speechless in astonished reaction and relief, did not answer, so Mara continued. "When I came to Earth to find Kirk, I did not dream that you still lived in our time," she explained. "Finding you was an utter coincidence, and to me you seemed an unexpected gold mine of experience to consult. However, I do not intend to allow you to rob me of my revenge so that you may pursue yours. It is, as you see, largely unnecessary."

At first, Mara thought that he had heard nothing of what she had said. But then, a small motion drew her eye. The long fingers of his hand, still atop the torpedo shell, began to slip lightly along its smooth skin. He still faced his people's cryo tubes, but it was directly to her that he spoke.

"In my 'experience', as you call it, Jim Kirk… Starfleet officer Captain James Tiberius Kirk, commanding the Federation starship _U.S.S. Enterprise_… is a _remarkably_ difficult man to kill." Khan's fingertips had found a rivet on the torpedo, a small dome-shaped fastener rising above the metal around it, and they began to trace languidly around it.

Khan's low, compelling voice filled the chamber, but, watching his hand, Mara forgot to steel herself against its persuasiveness as he continued. "It will take an unusual man, applying remarkable capabilities, to help you pull it off." _Be careful, Mara_, she told herself. _He's probably doing that on purpose. You _know_ he is. _Still, fascinated, she saw him take the rivet between thumb and forefinger, pressing it briefly between them, before passing the whole of his hand firmly across it and down the side of the shell.

"You have selected such a man," he went on. Gliding across the cool, smooth surface, Khan's fingers followed the contour downward until they caressed its underside. "But I caution you—" he said as he curled them sensuously, one by one, and slowly withdrew his hand—"such men dare take what they want."

Caught up, Mara blinked as Khan then turned and moved purposefully toward her. This time, she held her ground, but then stood aghast as he strode right through her protective radius to close the distance between them. Easily catching her wrists as she belatedly fell into a defensive stance, he took both of them in one hand above her head and slammed her bodily against the transparent partition.

Mara fought for her life. Levering herself against the wall, she tried to drive a knee into his groin, but, expecting this, he twisted neatly to avoid it. Brutally, he ground the thumb of his free hand into the hollow of one hip, forcing her to fall back as her leg suddenly dangled uselessly from its socket. Biting back her cry, she made herself a dead weight, attempting to drop from his grasp, but he was ready for that as well, countering by lifting her by the wrists and pressing them even harder against the wall.

Gathering herself for a moment and ignoring her rising desperation, Mara inhaled and started to drop into speedtime. If she were to have any chance at all against Khan, she would need the advantage it could give her.

"No," Khan told her, almost conversationally, as he drove his fist into her abdomen, shoving the air back out from her lungs and temporarily stunning her diaphragm. "I watched your tanker from the bridge of the Vengeance. I realized that whoever piloted that craft must be Chrysaline, using training in speedtime to survive. It saved you then, but do not try to use it now."

Then, grasping her chin in his free hand, he bent his head to hers in a savage kiss. Gone was the deposed conqueror, weary of the fight, under her control but more than half-ready for death. Ascendant was the Khan of which Mara had read – passionate, self-determinate, and forcing others to react to his actions rather than he to theirs.

Writhing, Mara struggled to breathe, and then, a microsecond before she clenched her jaw to tear at his lips with her teeth, he pulled back out of her reach, nostrils flaring in arousal.

Mara sagged in his grip, trapped against the wall with her leg still limp beneath her. Khan smiled slowly, stroking her cheek with a finger. He waited until he saw realization dawn, her eyes flicking to the portable console still perched on the torpedo shell. "Yes, good, Mara," he said in mock praise, leaning forward to speak in her ear, his voice deceptively soft. A wave of her dark hair had tumbled over her face, and he gently smoothed it back. "The console. You effectively disabled its receiving connectivity to control what information I could take in, but its transmitting capability required only a minor repair and modification to act as a jammer for your sensors. The cryo tube was more than sufficient to provide the requisite parts and power."

Her heart pounding, Mara searched his face. If he intended to kill or maim her, clearly there was nothing that she could do to prevent it, now that he'd seized the advantage. She'd overcome human men before, executing them neatly with little danger to herself even when they tried a last, desperate attack. But Khan was another matter. Struggling pointlessly as he continued to hold her, she realized that she was wasting energy to no avail, and she stilled herself with an effort.

He lifted his chin, looking down at her in approval. "Good," he said. "You fear me, as you should, but you do not easily lose your head." He looked at her thoughtfully. "I doubt that I will be able to get you to lower your guard again in the same way. Perhaps I should take my pleasure of you before I release you." Mara tensed, and Khan looked amused. "Do you deny that I can?"

Mara glared at him. "No. Of course you could. _Once_." Then challenge surged in her voice. "But you'd lose the chance to know what it would be like for _me_ to take my pleasure of _you_… perhaps often."

A slow, sly smile appeared on Khan's lips, and again he drew forward to kiss her. This time, though, his mouth merely brushed hers, his warm breath flowing over her lips as his tongue parted them. As Mara responded, he released her wrists and his hand moved again at her hip, shifting tendons and restoring nerves and arteries to their normal positions. As sensation rushed tingling back to her leg, he placed his hands at her waist and lifted her again, nudging her thighs apart. Mara felt herself pinned against the wall once more, her heart racing as he set her astride his hard, insistent swell. He pressed forward, and a bolt of aching desire shot through her.

"All right. We go after Kirk together," she breathed, her lips against his. "But from now on, if this is what you want from me, practice just asking." She tilted her hips as he pressed upward underneath her, reveling in the effects of their joined movements.

"Practice saying 'yes', then," he warned briefly in answer, his hands moving to the closures of her uniform. It was a long time before either of them said anything else.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Khan scowled as he spoke. "Kirk interfered with my attempts to kill Admiral Marcus at Starfleet Command and on the _Vengeance_, and his crew falsely made me believe that my family had been killed in the detonation of the torpedoes. His constant challenges for a cockfight annoy me no end, and his childish jealousy of my superiority showed in the punches I took from him after saving his life on Qo'noS. He is far too young and undisciplined, and too much of a loose cannon, to be in command of anything larger than a shuttlecraft."

Then he looked up at Mara seriously. "But, for all that, he is basically well-intentioned, and an honorable Starfleet officer who often flouts regulations but respects the rule of law. At great risk to himself and his crew he chose to attempt to return me to Earth to stand trial rather than to kill me for the crimes of which he knows I am guilty. Make no mistake: I detest Kirk. But I will now need more reason to justifiably seek his life again. I need creditable evidence that Kirk is your family's murderer, Mara. It does not fit with what I know of the man."

Mara sighed. "My proof is circumstantial," she admitted. "But it is also, I think you will agree, quite convincing. Computer: Log, Project Athena, Research Station Gamma."

Khan looked mildly surprised when a block of plain text appeared on the portable console's screen. Standing next to Mara to view it, he glanced over at her with raised eyebrows. "My parents were very old-school in some things," she explained, slightly embarrassed, and still getting used to being in close proximity with a very present Khan. "They all read at a much faster pace than they spoke, and they taught me to do the same. All of the project records are in text, including the logs. One moment, I can have the computer read it out loud to you."

"No need," Khan said, his eyes returning to the screen. "I'm finished with this page." He reached forward, and tapped the control to advance the record.

* * *

"It must be me in the tube, and I must truly be in stasis, Mara," Khan insisted.

Mara nodded, making a small, unnecessary adjustment on the panel of his tube. "I know," she replied, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't say anything."

"You feel unworthy of my trust," Khan stated, climbing into the tube and settling himself, and then looking up at her critically. "Are you?"

"Of course you can trust me," Mara said hastily. "It's just that I'm a little unnerved by the fact that you _do_ trust me."

"What is the worst that can happen? That you kill me as I sleep, or fail to defend my tube against someone bent on killing me? I will never know of your betrayal, and my spirit will thank you for its release. That things go badly and I become Kirk's prisoner? That has happened twice already, and now I am again going back onto his damned _Enterprise_. Do you know what he plans, Mara?" Khan asked bitterly.

"No."

"The noble captain, speaking with the judges who convicted me _in absentia_ while I slept, has negotiated to transport me and my people to some godforsaken Class M planet and to abandon us there without transport or communication."

"We won't allow that to happen, of course, but would that be so terrible, considering the alternatives?"

Khan pressed his lips together, annoyed by the need to explain. "For us personally, no. We would live out our lives uncomfortably, but uneventfully. As a people, however, it would be slow torture, because we are already too few to form a sustainable gene pool, and many of the women's eggs will have been damaged in the stasis. It might be best to avoid conception at all. Without assistance from reproductive technology, I would preside over the final demise of the Chrysalines, a particularly poignant punishment given all that I have endured to preserve us."

Idly, Mara wondered if Khan included her in the _us_, and whether she would choose to join him in exile if it came to that. She decided to consider it later. "I could still try to get you out of the facility before the tubes are loaded on board," Mara offered yet again, knowing he would refuse.

"I am still bound by my duty to my family," Khan said grimly. "I cannot leave them leaderless to face their fate, and this is the best way to help you as well. Close me in, Mara, and wake me as we have planned."

Khan closed his eyes resolutely, but Mara stood a moment, looking down at the face of the man who once had ruled millions. "I have read in old texts," she murmured, "That a person's state of mind at the onset of cryostasis persists, weaving slow dreams as they sleep, using their thoughts at the time as an inspiration. Is this true?"

Khan smiled, his eyes still closed. "_Yes._"

"Practice saying that for the next five weeks," she whispered, bending over him and reaching into the tube.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"And just what sort of 'minor repair' did Tube 41 require, Lieutenant Reynolds?" Chief Engineer Scott's burr was particularly pronounced as he questioned Mara, a sign that she had heard from her fellow engineering officers was always associated with trouble.

Reminding herself to respond more automatically to her adopted name, she strove to project an unconcerned attitude. "Is there some problem with my work, Chief?"

"With your work? Nae, lassie, but perhaps with your accounting," he replied, tilting his head to indicate his console screen. "Accordin' tae this, Tube 41 was removed from Storage Compartment 16 and moved to Compartment 17 at the secure medical facility for 'repairs' that took you forty-three days. I'd just like tae have a wee bit more detail about that, if ye don't mind."

"Yes, of course, Chief. Tube 41's control panel was damaged and required the replacement of several parts," Mara answered easily. "It only took me a few hours to do the work, complete the operational checks, and return the tube to its spot when I was done. But I forgot to log it back into its original compartment until shortly before we left Earth." _Well, all that's truthful enough,_ she reflected, and then added innocently, "Did I not backdate the entry?"

"Perhaps ye tried, but the computer wilna let ye," Scott informed her, telling her what she had already discovered to her dismay. He looked at Mara skeptically. "And do ye know who is in Tube 41, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"You know I do not," she said, trying to sound irritated. "The protocol is that the list of the Augments' tube assignments is known only to senior staff. What's more, though, I don't actually care who's in those things. It's the classic technology I'm interested in." She made her voice animated. "Did you know that the digital readout panel is actually superfluous? It merely interfaces with an underlying independent analog system that I believe was assembled using a hand soldering iron, but I'd have to find someone who knows more about twentieth century electronic connection methods than I do to be sure."

"A soldering iron!" Scott exclaimed. He stood up from his desk. "Would ye like to see one, then? I have an antique model from the early twenty-first century in my quarters. It won't be quite the same as what was used on the tubes, but it might give you some idea."

"That would be fantastic, Chief," Mara said enthusiastically, following him out to the corridor. "I had no idea you were a technology history buff." _At least, I didn't until I overheard you in a conversation yesterday,_ she thought with a mental sigh of relief.

* * *

Spock scrolled dutifully to the next report. His shift, and Uhura's, would end in a few minutes, and in that fascinating way of hers, she had hinted that she had something of particular interest to show him in her quarters afterwards. It was apparently an item she had found in a small boutique in the undamaged portion of San Francisco while the _Enterprise_ was undergoing repairs. An intriguing feedback loop between speculation and irrational emotion had sprung up in his mind … he suppressed his irritation as he brought up Engineer Scott's weekly report, noting that it was as replete with exhaustive technical detail as always.

There was nothing here that couldn't wait until the next duty cycle, surely, and from the corner of his eye he saw Uhura's relief take over her station. Then she walked by him nonchalantly and disappeared into the lift. She studiously neglected to look his way, and thereby drew nearly all of Spock's attention to herself. With an alacrity that might have been mistaken for eagerness, he stood from his chair and his hand reached out to toggle the display off, but the phrase "Tube 41" caught his eye and his fingers hovered over the control while he read the surrounding passage.

Some time later, a certain incensed communications officer, alone in her quarters, hurled a rather unusual object against the wall in extreme frustration.

* * *

"The lowered chamber temperature reduces the power draws required by the individual tubes, Doctor," Spock said, at last withdrawing the probes after checking the diagnostic meter's readout one more time.

"That's probably why the lieutenant moved the tubes to a warmer work area when there was extended maintenance to be accomplished on them," McCoy said, shivering in his surgical scrubs. "Not so mysterious, if you ask me."

"Indeed," Spock said. "Although why this tube required so much of her attention while they were under her care is the question of current interest."

"Well, are you almost done? You've been poking around in there for an hour. Does it check out?" McCoy demanded. "Is it booby-trapped or something now?"

"It is fully operational in all respects, having had several standard parts recently and capably replaced, and it shows no evidence of functions having been added or modified," Spock answered. "And what of the condition of its occupant?"

McCoy pressed a control, and the transparent portion of the cover slid back noiselessly. He pointed his medical tricorder at the motionless man inside. "It's him, he's alive, and he's definitely on ice, just as he should be," he said, looking away from the device to glance down at Khan.

"What is it?" Spock asked, as McCoy's eyebrows arched a bit.

"Nothing," McCoy replied, pressing the button that slid the cover back into place.

"Doctor, I have learned that when you say 'nothing' in that tone of voice—"

"It's just that you can see what religion he is, that's all," McCoy snapped, rolling his eyes and striding from the room before Spock could ask for clarification.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"I suppose I ought to ask you one more time, Lieutenant," Kirk said sternly. "Are you _sure_?"

"Yes, thank you, sir," Mara confirmed. She nodded at the tablet console he held. "As you can see, there was a mixup at Starfleet Command. The service obligation I incurred from Starfleet sending me for my master's degree actually expired a few days before we left Earth, but my letter stating my intention to resign my commission at that time has only just now been processed."

"Approved, then. All I ask is that you train your replacement," Kirk sighed, tossing the tablet onto a nearly table. "Starfleet's loss, though. We really do need you with those cryo tubes for a while longer."

"It's been a pleasure working with them. It's like watching the twentieth century come to life before my eyes," Mara replied, restraining a smile. "Don't worry, though, I've been showing the Chief what I know about the tubes, so you won't be left hanging." She paused, emphasizing the omitted "sir".

Mara then turned to leave without waiting to be dismissed. "Lieutenant," Kirk called, eyeing his former crewmember, still clad in her engineering red tunic. "Of course, I'll have to ask you to not wear the uniform, effective immediately."

"It's just 'Mara' now," she said smoothly. She paused at the door and smiled back at him. "As you wish. The next time you see me, I won't have it on."

* * *

Elegantly swift in motion, Mara leapt high in the air, turning as she slashed down with the narrow blade. The lethal strike was executed perfectly, and she landed noiselessly in a ready crouch.

"Now you," she said, rising gracefully and making room on the mat.

"It will be a while before I can do it as well as that," Hikaru Sulu said, taking her place. His movements, similar to hers but less fluid, would nonetheless have been more than adequately effective. Mara nodded approvingly.

Sulu performed the traditional salute to her with his blade, and then bowed. "Thank you, sensei," he said respectfully, and she bowed in return.

"Can I borrow that?"

Kirk's voice came from the doorway to the _Enterprise's_ martial arts studio. He had been leaning in the doorframe, arms crossed, and watching. Now he stepped forward, hand outstretched for Sulu's sword. Sulu looked over at Mara, concern on his face.

"I think not. That's not a training weapon he's using," Mara explained to Kirk. "It's real, and a Sulu family heirloom. I know you didn't mean anything by it, but to ask to borrow it is not appropriate."

"And how about that one?" Kirk asked, nodding at the blade Mara held. "Authentic also, I suppose?"

"Yes, a valuable antique that I have been trained to care for and use. A warrior's sword is a very personal thing, and something only he or she normally touches."

Kirk looked at her in surprise. "You're kidding." He glanced at Sulu, whose face indicated that he was in agreement. "You're not kidding. Fine." He went over to the niche in the side wall. "Computer: sword, Japanese, katana, koshi-sori curve." In seconds the weapon materialized and lay ready for him. He took it up, unsheathed it from its scabbard, hefted it in his hand and, after a quick look around to be sure his space was clear, took a couple of experimental slashes at the air.

Mara followed Kirk with her eyes as he went to stand on the mat and took a moment to center himself. Then he began a series of formal moves, a warming-up _kata_ that addressed all the major muscle groups and exercised his full range of motion. Taking advantage of the unexpected opportunity to gather intelligence about her intended opponent, Mara closely observed him. She noted that, whenever Kirk faced her, he made eye contact with her, a small smile on his face. _Showoff_, she thought with mild irritation.

Mara turned to Sulu, her eyebrows questioning. "The Captain occasionally reviews the personal combat material covered in the Academy physical training curriculum," Sulu explained. "It included a rotation in bladed weapons." _Hmm, that's worth knowing, _Mara mused._ Apparently my research in this area was insufficient._

Mara's instructors had trained her on the assumption that she would face military opponents with weapons. But in her duties as executioner, she had never actually faced a person who had been allowed one. In making her plans and rehearsing them in her mind's eye, she hadn't pictured Kirk as having anything, either. On board the _Enterprise_, he didn't normally even have a phaser within reach. If he did have or find something, he would certainly be more difficult to dispatch, of course, but still he was only a normal human.

Sulu, standing next to her, said in a low voice, "If I had to guess, in a real sword fight, whatever he lacks in technique he would more than make up for by throwing himself into it wholeheartedly. I've seen him do that before in all kinds of hand to hand fighting, and it's something to see." Mara, watching and noting Kirk's occasional weakness of form, could but agree; finesse was not Kirk's forte, but he possessed solid foundations and would likely put up a formidable defense if truly threatened. She would have to be careful if weapons were involved, but the final result would be the same.

Mara had seen enough, and turned to go. "Aren't you going to stay to work out with the Captain?" Sulu asked, surprised.

"Dinner in my quarters at eight, Mara?" Kirk called from across the room, the katana still tracing dangerous arcs around him.

"I'll be there, Jim, thanks," she called back. She had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes when Kirk competed the kata with a flourish and click-winked at her. "Not this time," she told Sulu. "You go ahead and knock yourself out. Looks like I'll be sparring with him later."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Mara, startled and breathing heavily, found herself on hands and knees, the low cushion kicked away and her sweat-soaked hair hanging over her face.

_Damn, _she thought disjointedly, breathing deeply to control her distress as the images faded. _Again._

The vision always ended this way, unresolved. It would be better, much better, if it simply ended in her death.

Before they'd left Earth, Khan had worked with her for days in perfecting her technique with the garrote, patiently fighting back as Kirk likely would. Khan and the slim cable, she knew, would be there when needed. The workout with Sulu in the studio had dismissed the strains in her muscles and readied them for use, and the time had come to prepare her mind. Always before an execution, Mara meditated, bringing all of her focus to the task and clearing her mind of distractions so that she could be optimally effective. Readying herself to kill Kirk, though … well, of course it was different.

Minutes after closing her eyes and steadying her breath, Mara's mind had twisted in on itself as it had done before in quiet moments, picturing her in the execution room at the station on _that_ day. In reality, the Romulan woman had recognized the futility of a final struggle, and had accepted Mara's swift, arcing strike with quiet dignity. But in Mara's waking nightmare, her intended target now glowed with white-hot righteous anger, and rose up in a sudden attack. Understanding suddenly to her horror that she was now the one to be executed, she remained helplessly frozen in place for an endless time, until her stalled mind shut down.

It was this all-emcompassing, debilitating vision that had stunned her during later executions. The prisoners' guards had had to finish them by phaser fire while Section 31's Project Athena directors watched her collapse. The damning live visual feed showed her life's work of training falling apart, as she became increasingly unreliable with the most common and silently useful weapon used in close-quarters personal combat.

Descending on the station to investigate the cause after the third incident, it hadn't been long before Section 31 operatives discovered her parents' supplementary curriculum, taught after hours in their private quarters over the years she had been in their charge. Counterbalancing the mandatory military intelligence training she received during the day, it had included art and music; the reading, enjoyment, and discussion of fiction; the frivolity of games; and, most incriminating of all, philosophy, including law, morality, and ethics.

Mara had been careful to conceal her knowledge of the Romulan's innocence, but the haggard looks on her parents' faces as they emerged from their individual "interviews" made her wonder what they had been forced to admit under the questioning they endured. That night, her parents had hugged and kissed their foster daughter, assured her with cheerful smiles that everything would work out all right, and hastily bundled her off on her unscheduled training mission away from the station.

Mara let out a shuddering sigh, remembering what she had found upon returning home days later. But already she and Khan had killed all of those who had sentenced the Romulan to her unjust execution and Kirk to murder her parents. With the death of Kirk himself, Mara thought grimly as she went to shower and dress, she would finally have some peace.

* * *

His wordless objection strenuously voiced, Kirk glared at Spock reproachfully. "You were to wait for my signal if I needed anything," he exclaimed, shifting Mara's limp arm from across his face and pushing her off his chest. "Do you mind pointing that thing in another direction now? Oh, fantastic," he added in a surly tone as he saw Uhura rise from her firing position and holster her phasers. Irritably, he sat up and swung his legs off the bed, letting her choose her own moment to find other places to look while he stood and reached for his uniform.

"That signal would likely never have come," Spock replied, unperturbed. "I have information that has led me to believe that your life was in imminent danger."

Kirk looked down at Mara, now sprawled unconscious on the bed. "Well, my quote-unquote _attacker_ will sure have one hell of a headache when she wakes up," he commented, stepping into his trousers with poor grace. "Three phasers, two on continuous stun beam and a third on maximum-rate pulse stun? Do you think that was sufficient to nullify the alarming hazard posed by one, ah, quite clearly unarmed 55-kilo young woman?" he added sardonically, tipping his head toward Mara.

Two security guards poked their heads in from the corridor, also with phasers held ready. "All secure in here, Lieutenant?" they asked Uhura.

"For the moment," she said warily. "Come in and cover us while I get her ready for you to take to the brig."

Bemused, Kirk watched Uhura gather up Mara's gown from the floor and, ungently but efficiently, lift her up to pull it roughly over her lolling head and into place. Suddenly Uhura dropped Mara back onto the bed and backed away. "Again, Spock," she barked. Spock, ready with the phaser, stunned Mara again just as her eyelids began to twitch. Kirk's eyes widened, and Uhura gestured to the security men to come forward to collect their prisoner.

"If she tries to come to again—" Spock began.

"I hope she does," Uhura interrupted darkly as she followed the guards into the corridor. She stalked off.

Kirk sighed and looked questioningly at Spock as he pulled his command black tunic over his head. "Well?"

"You seem to have employed an interesting method of interviewing," Spock remarked neutrally.

"You warned me that the former Lieutentant Reynolds, a.k.a. Mara Crane, might be dangerous, especially if she wants something from me. Who was I to stand in the lady's way?" Kirk was unable to suppress a smirk, but failing to provoke a comment from Spock, he added curiously, "Really, Spock, what was that all about? Last I heard, the worst you could accuse her of was impersonating a Starfleet officer so that she could take excellent care of Khan's cryo tube. But then suddenly, you decide to drop by unannounced, and don't even knock." He indicated the smoking heap of twisted plasteel that had been his door.

"We dared not pause for the sake of propriety, but opted for conclusive action. She wouldn't have needed any weapons to do you significant harm, if that was indeed her intent," Spock said seriously. "I have learned that she is a Chrysaline. She could quite easily have overpowered you, and perhaps was merely waiting for a time when you were … distracted."

Reflexively, Kirk started to object, but then thought better of it. "What, one of Khan's people?" he said instead. "Loose on my ship? How?"

"Not exactly," Spock explained. "She is neither one of his people, nor an Augment. My research so far indicates that she is the result of a simple conception between whole gametes, obtained from a collection Khan established in the 1990s called the Cache. She is distantly related to him."

Kirk looked impressed. "Well, what does she want?"

"Unknown. From birth until last year, she was associated with something called Project Athena, but information about the project is difficult to come by as all involved except Crane have been killed. The computer and the intelligence officers are still working on that line of investigation. We are approaching the Class M planet. Perhaps she has some intentions related to our plans for Khan and his people. When I learned of her heritage and likely abilities, coupled with her excessive interest in Khan, Uhura and I did not wait to find out more."

The comm panel beeped, and Uhura's voice spoke briefly from it. "She's already conscious again, Captain."

"Right," Kirk said, tugging the hem of his tunic into place and nodding toward the brig. "Let's get her story." Spock strained to hear Kirk's sourly muttered words—something about _two more minutes—_as he stepped out into the corridor, but didn't quite catch them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 **

A bench projected from the wall of the brig cell, and Mara sat on it, eyes closed, cradling her head in her heads and focusing on the floor in front of her bare feet. Her sleeveless gown, a shimmering cerulean blue, draped gracefully from her shoulders to a band at her waist, and then flowed again to her knees. She decided vaguely that she had more important things to consider at the moment than how she came to be wearing it again.

Chief Engineer Scott was finishing a consultation in low voices with Spock, McCoy, and Kirk. "I didna know what she was up to," he said with some concern, glancing at his former cryogenics officer, "but her messin' about with Khan's tube in particular got my attention."

"You can stop whispering in an attempt to prevent me from overhearing," Mara said, annoyed, nauseated, and still trying to banish the pain from behind her eyes. "The gain of the sound system in here must be set on eleven." Abruptly she stood, and strode to the thick, transparent wall separating her from the little group. She looked directly at Scott, ignoring the way her head continued to spin even after she stopped moving.

"I imagine you put the Quality Inspection Team on reviewing my work the instant you started to wonder, Chief."

"Aye, I did, two days ago," he responded noncommittally.

"Let me tell you what they've found, then. That I've never damaged any Starfleet tools or equipment, and in fact have left things in better condition than I found them, particularly the cryo tubes. I know that this means something to you, Chief."

Chief Scott gazed back at her, anger seething beneath the surface. "Aye, it does, and I might be sorry to be losin' your skills. Except that even in Engineering, Starfleet officers' first loyalty is not to the tools or equipment, _Crane_."

Mara considered this. "Fair enough. Let me add, then, that I regret that larger concerns led me to present myself to you as 'Lieutenant Reynolds.'"

With a quick glance at Kirk, Chief Scott refused to even nod in acknowledgement; instead, he turned on his heel and left.

"These 'larger concerns'," McCoy mimicked sarcastically, moving close to the transparent boundary. "Let's hear more about those, Mara."

Mara crossed her arms and looked at McCoy in annoyance. "So, Doctor, does Starfleet policy always require a thorough phaser stunning of its personnel, when a records check shows that they go by a name other than what they were born with?"

Spock looked up from a nearby console. "Your deceit transcends a mere name change, and you have been the subject of more than a records check." He indicated the console display. "Investigation has revealed that you are a Chrysaline, conceived of Khan's Cache, raised under the auspices of Section 31's Project Athena. Your education and training, administered by a team of three specialists, was wide-ranging and rigorous, focusing on engineering and techniques of individual intelligence missions. Recently Project Athena was defunded by Starfleet and you came to Earth. You taught yourself applied cryogenics and joined the crew of the _Enterprise_ while she was in spacedock. You took advantage of your assignment to the care of the tubes to spend quite a lot of time with the one containing Khan Noonien Singh."

Mara listened soberly, and then nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Spock, for laying out the true terms of this conversation."

"This is not a conversation," Spock corrected her sharply. "It is an interrogation. First question: What is your interest in Khan?"

"That is an obvious question, but not a relevant one," Mara replied dismissively. She watched Spock as he tracked a readout on the console, aware that as she spoke, the brig's lifesigns monitoring system was assessing her truthfulness. "I had no idea that he lived until after I came to Earth. That he does has played a role in my actions, but has not been the driver of them. Try again."

Spock was silent, thinking. Mara turned to Uhura, who stood glowering. "How about the woman with the swift right hook? Any ideas?"

"What is your interest in Captain Kirk?" Uhura challenged.

Mara spoke readily. "I left the project, got qualified in a useful profession, changed my name to avoid my past, worked hard, and did a good job while I was in Starfleet," she told Uhura levelly. "I was interested in a man who seemed equally interested in me, and everything seemed grand. I was about to do what I came to the Captain's quarters to do." She half-smiled wryly, and then rolled her eyes, gesturing to indicate her exasperation. "Then you all decided to join us uninvited, brandishing heavy weaponry."

Uhura, facing away from the brig's camera panel, silently mouthed a skeptical obscenity, while Spock objected, "Your version of events leaves much to be desired. In particular, your Starfleet rank and place on the _Enterprise_ was unearned and unauthorized. The logical hypothesis is that you planned to commit some harmful act while aboard the Enterprise, perhaps involving the captain, with whom you have cultivated a relationship."

Kirk, who had been leaning on a console and listening with crossed arms, interrupted impatiently, "Let's not overreach, Spock. For the record, the ah, _cultivation_ was mutual, and at no time did I feel personally threatened." He approached the brig barrier and spoke to Mara. "But this is not the place to debate whether my officers overreacted and used excessive force in putting you in my brig. Before I let you out, I need to know more about why you came here."

Mara smiled back at him, but Kirk's attention was distracted as a small, swirling glow appeared on the brig's bench. Moments later, a matte black fighting knife lay there, while Kirk himself dissolved into the transporter effect, only to reappear inside the enclosure, standing opposite Mara. While Kirk stood bemused, she dove for the knife and, gripping it, whirled to face him. The smile was gone; in its place was an expression of cold lethality.

McCoy, dismayed, said, "I think we're about to find out."


End file.
